My Last Vow To You
by Dawnfire11
Summary: WARNING: Major character death... angst... triggers... sadness... Season three spoilers... There is a terrible accident, causing Sherlock to be put in the hospital. John makes one last vow to his best friend.


**A/N: It's valentines day, and, being single, this day always depresses me to no end. So this story will probably be really really dark...**

**This actually started out as a chapter for my series of oneshots, Never Alone... but then it turned to angsty...**

**Please note I have no experience with hospital procedure... I did some research, but... I definitely got details wrong. **

**Warning: Depressing... sad... season three spoilers... possible trigger warnings... character death...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. I own none of the songs listed below. They are just the songs that inspired the fic. **

**Soundtrack for this chapter: Tears of an Angel by RyanDan, Say Something by A Great Big World, Redbeard- Sherlock season three soundtrack.**

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My Last Vow To You

He got the call while he was at work. He was just seeing to his next patient, slipping his latex gloves over his hands, feeling his fingers twitch as the cold gloves hugged his hands.

He didn't answer his phone on the first ring, muttering an apology to the woman who was waiting for her physical.

On the second ring, he heard Mary pick it up, her soft voice echoing in from the other room. There was a slight pause before she turned and tapped on the doorframe.

"John," she said. "You need to answer this... I will take care of your last few patients." Her voice was calm and steady, but John could hear something underneath the mask.

He nodded to his wife, stepping out of the room and accepting the mobile clutched in her hands.

"Hello?" he said into the phone. The words that came next were unexpected, making his knees buckle. He clutched the wall for support, knuckles turning white from the pressure.

_Accident... need to come... Sherlock Holmes... seriously injured. _

XXXXX

John sat in the plastic chair, staring blankly at the white walls in front of him. A warm cup of coffee was clutched in his hands, his cold fingers soaking in the warmth radiating from the flimsy paper mug.

He was numb.

He could hear the sound of the clock ticking from somewhere above his head. A child behind him was crying.

He clenched his eyes shut, the cup slipping from his hands, brown liquid spilling out on the tile.

"John?"

Warm hands came to either side of his face and he let his eyes open, staring straight into Mary's.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, her hands traveling up his face to comb through his hair.

"I'm... fine," he choked out. Her warm hands left for a moment and she walked away from him. It was an instant before she was back, paper towels wadded in her hands. She knelt by the puddle of coffee, her blonde hair falling out of its pins and shielding her face from view.

"Did you get any more information...?" Mary asked, tossing the paper towels into a nearby bin and then sitting down in the plastic chair next to John.

"Sherlock is in surgery now... but they didn't tell me anything else about his condition..." John replied, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. They felt gritty and dry, as if they were filled with sand.

"He will be just fine, John," Mary said. "He is Sherlock Holmes."

But even she didn't sound convinced.

XXXXX

The doctor who came to them was young, her brown hair pulled into a tight bun on her head. John studied her face, trying to read her expression, trying to get as much information as he could.

"Is he okay?" he blurted.

"He is in intensive care now... He has three broken ribs, a broken leg, and a severe concussion. We managed to stop the internal bleeding, but... his chance of survival is small," the doctor said.

John was glad he was sitting down. The world had started to spin around him and he clutched Mary's hand like a lifeline.

"I have to see him," he said. "Please let me see him."

The doctor just nodded to him turning and beginning to walk. John stood, dashing to catch up with her. He could hear Mary's shoes squeaking on the tile as she followed him.

Sherlock had a private room, one at the end of the hallway. John didn't hesitate at the door, stepping inside to the bright room, looking at the figure in the bed.

Sherlock was pale, bright purple bruises standing out on his face and arms. He was hooked up to countless machines, countless wires going every which way. John could feel hot tears prickling behind his eyes as he approached his friend.

He sat in the chair next to the bed, his hand going to clutch Sherlock's own. His skin was cold to the touch, feeling waxy and dead.

"Sherlock..." he said softly. He could hear the door shutting behind him, but he didn't look away from his friend's bandaged face.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" he said, a small laugh slipping from his throat before he could stop it. "Jumping in front of a car? Really, Sherlock. You may have a high IQ, but sometimes..."

His voice broke and he ran his free hand through his hair.

"Pleas just make it through this..." he whispered.

XXXXX

It was several hours later, John still sitting by his friend's side. Mary had gone to get some food for the two of them, leaving her husband alone with his dying best friend...

_Dying... _The word sent another stab of pain into his heart, and he squeezed Sherlock's hand.

John had stopped talking long ago, and just sat, watching the machines pump air into Sherlock's chest.

He knew it wouldn't be long now...

"Sherlock..." John said softly. "Please wake up..."

He blinked away his tears, taking a shuddering breath. "I... I miss you, Sherlock..." he choked. "I need you."

A tear drop fell down his face and onto his arm. He could hear the beeping getting softer, less regular.

"Sherlock... Please wake up. Please just do it for me..."

_Beep. _

"I know I haven't been there..."

_Beep._

"But you saved my life, Sherlock Holmes..."

_Beep... _

"And I will always be there for you from now on... My last vow to you..."

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep..._

John heard the alarms go off around him, but he didn't move, tears now streaming freely down his cheeks.

"Please say something, Sherlock..." John sobbed. "Please... Don't die... Please... I can't... I can't..."

He was aware he was blabbering now, saying anything that came to mind, begging, pleading, asking, praying...

But it was no use. Sherlock Holmes was dead.

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**A/N: And this is why I shouldn't be alone with my thoughts on Valentines day. I'm just going to go curl up with a bowl of ice-cream and a Sherlock episode now. **

**Hope you lovely people have an awesome day!**

**-Dawn **


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